


A Taste of Freedom

by kisssanitygoodbye



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/pseuds/kisssanitygoodbye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When winter comes to Ferelden, all Anders wants is to go outside. Karl can't make this happen, but maybe there is something else he can do...<br/>Written for Recreational Use of Magic Week on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Freedom

“You alright?” Karl sits down next to him with a book in his hand and a frown on his face, two things he often carries when he is with Anders.

“No,” he grumbles, turning the page of his own book with such force that he nearly rips it in two. “It’s snowing outside. I saw it on my way back from dinner.”

“And?” Anders often speaks in riddles, not bothering with details and explanations, as if his mind is moving too fast for his mouth to keep up. Karl has gotten used to it over time and doesn’t mind asking his friend to elaborate, even though it can be quite tiring. It’s just one more little thing he allows Anders that he wouldn’t tolerate so easily with anyone else.

Anders sighs, giving up on his attempt to read and closing the book with a loud thud. “I love snow. Always have. Me and my sister would always go out on Satinalia evenings, trying to catch as many flakes with our tongue as we could. We often had scratchy throats in the morning, but it was worth it.” Karl sees the small smile forming on the younger boy’s lips and wonders how many stories like these Anders keeps secret, how many things about his life he doesn’t know yet. But he is sure of one thing. He wants to know them all, if Anders only lets him. “I want to go outside, Karl.”

His voice is very quiet so as not to alert the Templar standing at the entrance to the library, but Karl can still hear the longing in his words. There’s always a lot of longing when Anders speaks; sometimes mixed with anger, sometimes mixed with hope.

Karl doesn’t answer. What could he say after all? ‘ _I know, but we can’t’_ or ‘ _You will be allowed to go outside one day?’_

Neither line is an option, the first one too honest, the second one a promise he can’t make. So he stays silent, lifting a hand, putting it under the table and letting it rest on Anders’ thigh, the only comfort he can give when they’re in public.

But maybe there is something he can do. There is one advantage to living in the Tower, after all; being allowed to make use of Ferelden’s biggest library. And that is exactly what he is going to do.

~*~

It takes him two full weeks of flicking through countless books, but eventually he finds the spell he is looking for.

He practises it in broom closets and unused classrooms and has to put up with Niall asking him why his robe is completely soaked after getting it wrong and conjuring a downpour by mistake. But eventually, he gets it right. Not only right,  _Perfect_.

It takes another week for him to find the right moment to put his plan into practice.

Anders will get back from a lesson with Wynne in ten minutes, and there are fewer templars patrolling the halls this evening, so he waits in Anders’ dormitory and makes all the necessary preparations.

When he has only two minutes left, he closes his eyes and says the spell, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he feels the cold little flakes on his face, sticking to his hair and beard, and when he opens his eyes again the bunk beds and tables are already covered in white. It’s beautiful, and he can’t help the smile spreading on his lips.

There is no one here to see it, it’s close to dinner time and the apprentices prefer to spend their time after lessons in the library or in one of the common rooms. But he has told Anders to meet him before dinner, and he can always count on him to abide by their agreements.

When he hears a loud gasp at the door he turns around, and Anders is standing in the doorway, mouth open in utter disbelief, and when Karl sees his eyes light up and the corners of his mouth pull up into a delighted grin, it reminds him of home - not Ferelden but the Anderfels - of cold evenings spent in front of the fire, of freshly baked bread on the table, of his mother smiling while she ruffles his hair, asking him if he wants a cookie before bed.

“Gefällt’s dir?” he asks, because using his native language now feels  _right_.

“Soll das ein Scherz sein? Das ist… perfekt.”

Anders laughs, not his usual, sarcastic laugh, but a clear, genuinely happy sound, echoing off the walls and making the room seem even brighter.

And then he runs into the room, opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out and catches as many snowflakes as he can, and he looks completely ridiculous, but he has also never looked more beautiful.

So Karl joins him, walking up to him, tilting his head back and feeling the flakes melt on his tongue while his hands encircle Anders’ waist, and it doesn’t matter that they are still in the Tower, because now, for a few minutes, Karl has brought a piece of outside to Kinloch Hold, and that is enough for tonight.

 

**Translations:**

_“Do you like it?”_

_“Are you kidding? It’s… perfect.”_


End file.
